


Of Balls and Red Herrings

by RosaClearwater



Series: Facetious Fusions [26]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Absolute AU!, Also totally pre-relationship, Gen, M/M, Not as vulgar as it may sound I promise!, Pre-show :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 16:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13528455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaClearwater/pseuds/RosaClearwater
Summary: “Now, you listen to me, I’m the detective, thedetective,not the red herring. I’ve got a job, a secretary, a mother, two ex-wives, and several bartenders that depend upon me, and I don’t intend to disappoint them all by getting myself ‘slightly’ killed.”As much as Mycroft was inclined to care about this Gregory fellow’s plight -- actually, he really wasn’t -- he did have a country to save. Consequently, the “red herring” sitting before him was someone he did have to pay attention for at least five minutes.Though, he had to admit, for someone from law enforcement he did cut a rather decent figure.If one looked at him in the appropriate lighting, that is.Aka, North by Northwest meets Mystrade meets Ballie Ballerson...





	Of Balls and Red Herrings

**Author's Note:**

> __  
> DISCLAIMER: I love North by Northwest. This is not going to be North by Northwest. What this is going to be throwing a shout-out to one of my favorite pairings and one of my favorite London clubs and a mishmosh of North by Northwest. 
> 
> Also, totally Unbeta’d. Just saying.
> 
> SECOND DISCLAIMER: This is an AU. Absolutely an AU. It takes place in London, but they’ve never met before. And, it’s totally crack with innuendo scattered around, particularly at the end.. My advice is to just roll with it and have a nice day!

“Now, you listen to me, I’m the detective, the _detective,_ not the red herring. I’ve got a job, a secretary, a mother, two ex-wives, and several bartenders that depend upon me, and I don’t intend to disappoint them all by getting myself ‘slightly’ killed.”

 

As much as Mycroft was inclined to care about this Gregory fellow’s plight -- actually, he really wasn’t -- he did have a country to save. Consequently, the “red herring” sitting before him was someone he did have to pay attention for at least five minutes.

 

Though, he had to admit, for someone from law enforcement he did cut a rather decent figure.

 

If one looked at him in the appropriate lighting, that is.

 

“Detective Lestrade,”

 

“Detective _Inspector_ Lestrade.” The man didn’t strike Mycroft as someone who normally cared for formalities such as one’s title. However, the man _did_ strike Mycroft as someone who rather enjoyed irritating those who held onto such formalities.

 

Oddly enough, Mycroft had no genuine resentment when it came to humoring the man.

 

Must’ve been that damn lighting.

 

_._

 

“Now, why do _I_ have to be the one to risk his neck? Don’t you own MI6 or something?”

 

Hadn’t they gone over this when they had met a mere two hours ago?

 

Mycroft subtly consulted his watch once more, hardly believing that he had already spent two hours with the good inspector. Fascinatingly enough, it really only felt as though it had been a mere ten minutes.

 

But, no matter.  

 

“We’ve already gone over this, Detective Inspector. You bear a striking resemblance to Mr. Wren’s employee,”

 

“The guy who doesn’t actually exist, right?”

 

“to the point that you have been mistaken for him. Seeing as how said employee, as you so eloquently pointed out,” He ignored Lestrade’s blatant huff and continued on, uninterrupted “Is in fact fictitious, it is necessary for you to step in to play the role for a few more hours. Furthermore, as I’ve stated repeatedly, I only occupy a _minor_ position in the British government.”

 

“So, why the club?” There was a faint hint of disdain in the blunt tone, bringing a very faint smile to the man’s face.

 

“One of our other agents requested it.” Truthfully, Mycroft didn’t really care for the location either. Luckily enough, _he_ wasn’t the one who had to actually traipse around the place.

 

“And, what exactly is the name of the club?” Ah, yes, the one detail the elder Holmes had neglected to inform his companion -- temporary companion, mind you -- of.

 

Mycroft paused a moment, grimacing internally before fixing Gregory with a primly stare. The inspector only leaned forward, an eyebrow quirked in curiosity.

 

Was the man really going to make Mycroft actually utter such a name? The elder Holmes waited a beat, hoping another question would surface in that one’s stead.

 

… That apparently wasn’t going to be the case.

 

So, the name was spoken with typical snobbish derision, thrown away carelessly into the air.

 

“... Come again?”

 

Now, that was hardly fair.

 

And, judging from the silent laughter emanating from those now twinkling chocolate eye, Gregory was fully cognizant of just how unfair it was.

 

_._

 

Mycroft could admit to himself that he had his own curiosity after conversing with the man for three hours. After all, one hardly involves one’s self in irrelevant matters for three hours.

 

Naturally, that was the only reason Mycroft was currently inspecting the live footage coming from inside the club once the good inspector entered the club.

 

If a snicker slipped at the moment where Lestrade comprehending why it was called “Ballie Ballerson”, no one in the room was foolish enough to mention it.

 

No one, that is, except for Anthea.

 

_._

 

“Gregory, what on Earth are you doing?”

 

The mission had been a success, causing Mycroft to feel as though he should personally congratulate the agents involved.

 

Unfortunately, the only one to congratulate left was literally balls deep in one of the ball pits.

 

A grunt came from the sea of balls that currently engulfed the bent-over Detective Inspector. Luckily, the scene painted before him was so ludicrous that Mycroft only felt a tinge of something he wasn’t interested in currently investigating.

 

“Pardon?”

 

The muffled voice was finally released from the ball pit, “Lost my phone.”

 

Mycroft disdainfully leaned an inch forward, neck craning ever so slightly to scan through balls. After a few moments, it became painfully obvious how hopeless the task was going to be for Lestrade.

 

Therefore, the next time the detective resurfaced from the depths, he was accompanied by someone who occupied only a minor section of the British government.

 

Or, at least, he would have been. Had said government worker actually made it to the detective.

 

Turns out wading into a ball pit was a bit harder than one would believe.

 

Upon hearing the graceless fall, only softened ever so slightly by the balls Mycroft landed on, Gregory quickly rose back to the surface. Only to fumble clumsily as he was already losing his balance.

 

This fumbling caused a chain reaction within the ball pit as the balls went flying everywhere -- smacking poor Mycroft in the face quite a few times, much to the man’s immense chagrin. Fortunately, the situation did resolve itself… somewhat.

 

“Detective, I believe that is your hand on my--”

 

“Oh! Sorry.”

 

They would never speak of this again. In fact, once the phone had been retrieved, it would seem as though the good inspector and the man who occupied only a minor position in the British government would never cross paths again.

 

That is, until a certain consulting detective eventually made it onto the scene….

  
  
  


_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> So here was our original quotation: 
> 
> “Now, you listen to me, I’m an advertising man, not a red herring. I’ve got a job, a secretary, a mother, two ex-wives, and several bartenders that depend upon me, and I don’t intend to disappoint them all by getting myself ‘slightly’ killed.” -- North by Northwest
> 
> And, now, for our next installment...
> 
> “Of course, it’s everyone else’s fault that the minister thought the lady in the white dress and the veil was the bride.”
> 
> “It was a men’s tennis shirt and a government-sanctioned head net!” -- 30 Rock
> 
> And our fandoms of choice:  
> Doctor Who  
> Star Trek: DS9


End file.
